


Lie to Me

by DeepDisiresLonging



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, F/M, Fluff, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:07:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23702815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeepDisiresLonging/pseuds/DeepDisiresLonging
Summary: The Reader is a travel companion of the Witcher, Geralt, and occasionally Jaskier. Over time, her relationship with Geralt grows stronger. But the life they lead is dangerous, physically and emotionally. I wrote this for @lancsnerd for their Tumblr #lancsnerd1kchallenge.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 41





	1. Kikimore

“I didn’t need your help.”

You ignored him and dropped his share of the cut into his open palm. “Right.”

“I didn’t.” Geralt growled and followed you to the horses. 

The kikimore corpse was still dripping swamp gunk and who knows what. Roach was more than happy to get it off his back. Your steed, Alcippe, whinnied at the snack you’d brought her. With the earnings from the buyer, Geralt was able to buy a room for the night. You ordered a hot bath. 

“Get in.”

Geralt shot you one of his ‘like hell I will” glares.

“You stink of kikimore and swamp. And you’re hurt.”

“Hmm.” He rotated his shoulders, masking a wince. “I’m fine.”

He was never going to budge. So you took hold of his gear and dragged him closer to the tub. “Right. Because the giant gash across your back is perfectly normal, right?” You ran your fingers just under the proof of yet another close call. 

The feathery touches made Geralt hiss. “Easy, woman.” He grit his teeth. “Fine. If you hadn’t come swinging out of the trees like an Amazon when you did, that cut would have been much deeper.” There was a pause while you gently removed the leather and ruined tunic. “Thank you.” He was about to remove his pants, but you stopped him. 

“Leave those on, they need a wash too. You were mad at me for burning the last set. Now, hop in.”

Geralt hissed again as the water came in contact with the wound. You took a rag and set to cleaning it, taking extra care around the more ragged edges. He sat as still as he could. But the water sloshed when he flinched. “Tell me,” he rumbled, “how bad is it?”

You bit back a snort. “Do you want the truth, or the hard truth?”

“Lie to me.”

“Oh, no,” you moaned, “this is never going to heal!” You giggled and set to washing the mess off his back. “You’re going to bleed out and die in a most painful way. In remembrance of Geralt of Rivia, toss a coin-”

“Oh fuck off.” He tossed a handful of water over his shoulder at you. “I should have thrown Jaskier off a mountain when I had the chance.” 

You hummed. “Brilliant. Then he could haunt you and infinitely create songs for you from the afterlife.”

“Don’t even suggest that!”

In another moment, you were soaked and waist-deep in water. Geralt continued to douse you with water until you successfully pinned him to the side with your foot on his chest. It was just long enough for you to grab some soap… and for him to weave your fingers with his. 


	2. Hellhound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The smutty chapter...

All around you, the villagers that had been angry at you just a few minutes ago, were now drowning their rage in wine and something Geralt called “Wives’ Tears.” You declined the cup offered to you. 

“Would you like something stronger?” Looking side to side, Geralt slipped a small vial from under his armour. “Try this instead.”

You recognized the stench. “Where in this wide world could you have ever heard that getting drunk would help you defeat a hellhound? Especially drunk on something made from ghoul blood.” Still, you accepted the flask and took a sip, gagging at the taste. “For the love of sanity, why?”

With a chuckle, Geralt took back the flask and took a long draught. “Because… hellhounds excrete a painful aura. It can be distracting. But… by being drunk, the effect is minimal, and you can kill the thing. And it makes your moves smoother.”

Memory didn’t agree with that last bit, having seen Geralt’s “smoother” movements, but the results were impressive. “Fine. It works.” Again you looked around. “And who knew a Witcher travelled with so many spirits.” A smile tugged at your lips. “There’s a pun in there somewhere.”

“Please don’t.” He groaned as Jaskier leapt to the top of a table. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Say the magic word-”

“Bard-warning.”

“Fair enough.”

Before the first chord was strummed, Geralt had you safely tucked away in a far room. It was one of the nicer ones. And, by how the drinking was going on outside, it wouldn’t be used tonight by its owner. The bed was large. Four-posted. Draped with furs and sheets that were soft to the touch. 

“We shouldn’t.” Your whisper was barely heard past your lips. A shiver followed under Geralt’s fingertips. “We-”

“Why not?” He tilted your face up to his. While his words slurred, the realness remained. “You’re the only one who can make me talk when I haven’t for days. You’ve said I’m the one that can quiet your mind. Two sides of a blade.”

You guided his hand to his side, away from your face. “Don’t say such things. Please. Just… we can’t- I’m nothing to you. Say it. Lie to me if you have to, but say it.”

Geralt leaned down, his breath puffing against your lips. “You’re nothing to me.” For a blissful minute, he had control of your mouth with his. “If you disappeared tomorrow, I would never think of you again.” His fingers tugged at the straps holding your clothes together. “Not for one second.”

The bed rushed up behind you. It was a firm surface to lay one while your blood electrified in all directions. “If you rode away tomorrow into forever-” You cut off at a gasp as Geralt’s callused fingers found your slick. “I would be content to live two lifetimes without seeing your face.”

“Only two lifetimes?” Geralt smirked and manoeuvred to stand between your legs. “Maybe you do like me.” He waited for you to deny it. To lie. But the silence wore on. His yellow eyes glowed with the meaning of your silence. “Say it.”

“You are nothing to me-” 

You screamed as Geralt filled you. Over and over. The hunt faded away. The danger. The fear. You couldn’t hear or feel anything except for Geralt under your tight grip on his shoulders. Nothing but his grunting and moans in your ear. Your own broken sounds as he drove you to peak after peak. 

It took most of the night, but eventually, you were both sated enough to fall asleep.


	3. Wyvern

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The angsty chapter. I may or may not have cried writing this...

“Stay with me.”

“Y/N, can you hear me?”

“It’s dead. Now come on, we need to get out of here.”

You whimpered when he tried to move you. “Wait, Geralt, wait.” Clenching your jaw, you focused on breathing through the fire in your belly. “I- I can’t-”

His face wavered into view. “Yes, you can. We just killed a wyvern. A rabid one. There’s quite a reward waitin’ on us in the village.” He squeezed your hand. When you didn’t squeeze back, his brow creased. “Y/N. Keep your eyes open. Can you do that for me?”

It was hard. Everything hurt, your blood was on fire, and he wanted you to keep your eyes open?

“Fine, let them close. That’s- okay.” He eased up your armour and tunic for a look. 

The wyvern had come out of nowhere. It’s annoying when the thing you’re hunting arrives before schedule. The hunted isn’t supposed to become the predator. Its tail swung out and caught you in the stomach, sending you flying. Pain had been instant. Hot enough to make your fingertips winter-blue. 

“Geralt-”

“Take it easy-”

“Geralt,” you said harder. “How bad is it?” He wouldn’t look at you. And that scared you more than anything. 

He swallowed. “Do you want the truth…” He pulled your tunic down over the sight of the poison coursing through your veins. “-or the hard truth?”

If it wouldn’t have hurt to laugh, you would have. Instead, you settled for a weak smile. “Lie to me.”

Geralt’s hands were cold against your fevered skin. He cupped your face, trailing his thumbs across your cheeks. Maybe it was your blinking vision, but his eyes seemed blurry. “This is nothing. You’ll be back on your feet in no time.” One of his thumbs brushed something off your cheek. Something wet. 

“Thank you for being so gentle, Healer.” You heaved a breath. “Glad to hear it.”

He hummed lightly. “Don’t call me healer. I’m just a man who makes things bleed for a living. A monster.”

“You stopped lying.”

Both of you laughed. 

His smile dropped when you ended on a cough. “Y/N, open your eyes for me. Please? Look at me.” When you finally managed it, his white hair was plastered to his face as if he had the fever. “I’m going to check my bags on Roach. There’s gotta be something in there that I can use. I’ll be right back.”

Before he could turn away, you whimpered, “take care of Alcippe for me.”

“Y/N? Y/N-”

_At the edge of the world_

_Fight the mighty horde_

_That bashes and breaks you_

_And bring you the morn, oh_

_  
_

_Toss a coin to your Witcher_

_Oh, valley of plenty_

_Oh, valley of plenty, oh_

_Toss a coin to your Witcher_

_Oh, valley of plenty_


End file.
